


Change My Name

by CapGirlCanuck



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Ending to the First Movie, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hope, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Credence Barebone Deserves Better, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence Barebone Heals, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Finding Family, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I saw the movie and had feels and ideas, Newt Scamander is a Sweetheart, Past Child Abuse, Protective Newt Scamander, and no one else had written this so I did, this all just sort of... happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28494309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapGirlCanuck/pseuds/CapGirlCanuck
Summary: They land in a heap, in the snow.Newt almost laughs.So itispossible to apparate into a magically expanded suitcase.Newt has exactly three minutes and forty seconds longer to talk to Credence in the train tunnel.(My muse went down a bunny hole, and I went after it.)
Relationships: Credence Barebone & Newt Scamander
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	Change My Name

**Author's Note:**

> This was not expected. I just wanted to read something with this premise, and couldn't find anything. But my brain wouldn't let go of the idea and kept expanding it until I realized the fastest way to get over this was to get through it. By writing it. And it isn't rubbish, so I'm throwing it out there.  
> Purely self indulgent, and not at all my normal way of going about a fanfic (although the h/c is 100% normal). I NEVER start with an AU idea, but because those movies (I've only watched the first one, though I know what happens in the second) are basically in an alternate Wizarding World from the original books (which I love) anyway.... It doesn't feel nearly as traitorous.  
> I just watched the movie to see cool/cute creatures, and because I liked Eddie Redmayne's looks. I did _not_ plan on caring so much about Newt or Credence or Tina or Queenie or Jacob or Pickett or Frank or the niffler or or or...............  
> Please be kind. :3  
> And NO, I am not doing anything more with this. I have serious Marvel stuff to get back to. My regular readers need not alarm.  
> *holds muse up by the scruff and shakes it* *gently*
> 
> The title is taken from the Trading Yesterday song of the same name.

Blue coat. Gentle voice.

“I’ve met someone like you.”

Soft, only a single echo.

_“Someone like you.”_

No sudden moves.

Darkness receding.

He blinks, and he is kneeling on the far side of the tracks from the man with the floppy brown hair.

Shaking, and he tries to still it. He grips one hand with the other, his stomach roiling, his skin cold.

The man with the accent sinks into a crouch, but open, easy. His eyes are warm and shiny.

“Credence.”

He tries to breathe.

“Can I come over to you?”

A tremble in the voice, a tremble in the listener.

“Can I come over?”

His lips are parted, and he would almost reply, but words stick in his throat, and he presses his lips together, bites them.

He can’t take his eyes off the Englishman.

The gentle man straightens slowly, softly, his whole body so thoroughly aware of Credence it’s okay when he looks away and then back, his intentions clear.

Shoulders rounded, back a little slumped, chin down, hands loose at his sides.

One soft step, another into the middle of the tracks, stones crunching under his boots. The man stills when the boy’s breath catches.

“May I?” the gentle murmur asks, and this time Credence gives the slightest bob of his head.

The blue coat comes softly, kneeling in front of him, still an arm’s length away, long legs folding, brown hair hiding one eye, before he pushes it aside.

Their eyes meet for a moment, hold.

“I won’t hurt you.”

His lips are trembling, he is afraid, he tries to breathe. He can’t swallow the ball in his throat, and his gulp sounds horribly loud.

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you anymore.”

The man’s eyes are neither blue nor green but somewhere in between, and they say far more than his tongue.

Credence feels words forming somewhere between his brain and his throat, he isn’t entirely sure how much there is left of him to say this.

“I think I can help you. If you’ll let me. I don’t promise; I don’t want to make a promise I might not be able to keep. But I want to help you.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Please. Let me.”

The fair, freckled, hopeful face blurs, and he can hardly make his mouth do what he wants. “Please.” Almost instantly he cringes, remembering the last time he’d said that.

“Help me.”

The words sound like they’re spoken by someone else, but he can taste them, taste the salt on his lips, and his skin is shivering, the cracks are beginning to form–

“I will.”

Something warm covers the back of his hand, and everything in him flinches away. Except for his hand.

“I will help you.”

Fingers, strong, gentle, a bit calloused, wrapping around his wrist. He cannot speak because he is breaking inside—not because of the darkness, but because of the tears.

He cannot see, he can only hear the crunch of gravel behind him, and the Englishman’s gasp.

A flash of light. The grip so tight it hurts his arm, and he opens his mouth to scream, but he can’t breathe. Shouting. Squeezing. Spinning.

Darkness.

*¡*¡*¡*¡*

Newt knows it is a risk.

He’s taken a few of those in New York already, but this is different. This is placing not only himself and Credence in danger, but all his creatures.

Apparating with Credence in this state could break the boy’s control, and set the Obscurus loose again. He doesn’t know if Graves has cast an Anti-Apparating Charm around the train station, or if is even possible for him to apparate into an Undetectable Extension Charmed suitcase.

But he has no time to think of another plan. He needs somewhere safe, and that is the safest place he knows.

He sees Graves, sees the flash, flattens himself against the gravel as the spell parts his hair. He _says_ , _“Protego!”_ because he is _thinking_ something else as hard as he possibly can, and closing his eyes, and gripping Credence’s hand fiercely as he rolls over.

They land in a heap, in the snow.

Newt almost laughs.

So it _is_ possible to apparate into a magically expanded suitcase.

He is sucking lungfuls of the cool air as he scrambles to his feet, pulling Credence gently with him.

He stops wanting to laugh when he sees Credence. He is shaking even worse, but not just shivering, like he’s got a chill or something. His outline, indeed his very skin seems to waver, melting like wax. His eyes are… barely there.

“Credence.”

Newt feels the pain and grief pushing against his chest, and for the first time he looks full into the boy’s face, trying to find him there, to hold on to him with his eyes.

“Credence. It’s alright. You’re safe now.”

It isn’t enough, he could see it isn’t going to be enough, and something jagged presses against the back of his throat.

Credence staggers, and Newt catches him with both hands this time, steadying him. He slides one arm under Credence’s, around his back , and the boy finds his feet. Looks up.

There! Those eyes are human, and Newt lets himself exhale softly. He offers a little smile.

“See? Mum’s here. I mean, I’m here. It’s alright. You’re safe right now.”

Credence breathes.

Slowly, Newt starts to ease his arm away, and it is like watching darkness fall through a window, so he stills.

“Credence?”

The dark head is down, but it tilts, ever so slightly toward Newt’s shoulder.

As gentle as he would be with an injured unicorn, Newt steps closer, slipping his arm around Credence’s back. He lets Credence lean into his side.

The boy’s shoulders shake. He tries to rest his head on Newt’s shoulder, without moving any other part of him, and Newt gives a little sigh.

He feels clumsy, he isn’t exactly one for hugs much except from Theseus, but he steps and turns and drapes his other arm around Credence’s shoulders.

He realizes they are quite close in height; it is almost like hugging his brother. Except Credence does not hug him back, he only leans into Newt, his breath coming in little gasps.

When Newt closes his eyes, he can sense it, dimly, but much stronger than any he’s known. The power of the darkness that lurks somewhere under the boy’s skin.

He remembers washing the blood out of her mouth, and the white of her teeth as she smiled at him one last time. Her body failing her, no longer able to work properly, having been reduced to dust so many hundreds of times.

She had died in his arms, and instinctively Newt grips Credence a little tighter.

“You’ll be alright then,” he mutters, still awkward, though it helps to think of this boy as another abused and mistreated creature, like so many he’s rescued before. “I’ll help you. As best as I possibly can.”

Newt would pull away, but he can tell this is helping, helping Credence hold himself together. So he stands quietly, hugging the boy, as a little eddy of snow collects around their ankles. He strokes a hand over the black hair, and Credence makes a low noise in his throat, as if trying to speak.

There are tears in Newt’s eyes as he answers, “I said I wouldn’t hurt you, Credence. And I meant that.”

Newt would never consider himself good with people, but he does know how to be gentle and kind, and he thinks that alone will do wonders for Credence.

He doesn’t know how long it has been before his reverie is broken, by a distant shout of his name.

 _Tina_.

*¡*¡*¡*¡*

Someone calling in the distance.

The blue-coated man leading him with an arm around his shoulders.

Credence has no idea where he is, and tries to focus, to take in what is happening.

He sees trees, and rocks, and a sort of little house ahead of them. For a moment, his heart stops as a woman with a dark bob of hair appears in the doorway.

“Newt!” she cries, and then he can see it is someone else, the lady he met several weeks ago. The lady who had hit his Ma-

“Credence!” There are tears on this other lady’s face, and she only hesitates briefly before pulling the young man into her warm arms.

She is tense, breathing quickly, and talking over his shoulder to the man she called Newt. “It’s Mr. Graves. Oh, Newt, he’s tearing the station apart looking for you! I was so worried.”

Credence shivers, closes his eyes. “He’ll find me.”

“No, he won’t!” the woman snaps, and she tightens her hold on Credence.

“Right. Tina, please take care of him.” The warm voice of Newt is moving away. “I must try to put a stop to this.”

“Be careful!” she calls, but Newt’s footsteps have already faded.

Credence hears her gulp once, before she pulls back, rests her hands on his shoulders. He is sixteen, but he feels six when she looks at him like that with her eyes full of tears.

“I know what she did to you.”

His lips part, he wants to say something like _I killed her_ , but his tongue does not move. And then he says, “He w-wanted me to help him. Give him power.”

She takes one of his hands, holds to it, as her eyes harden behind the tears. “Newt and I will protect you, Credence. I promise. We’ll keep you safe.”

“Modesty.” She isn’t his sister, but he knows her, he cares about her, he hopes he didn’t kill her too, because it wasn’t her fault, none of this was his sisters’ fault.

Instantly her face softens, and she gives him the faintest of smiles, nodding hard. “Oh, yes, Credence, we’ll take care of them. We’ll make sure they’re safe. We’ll find them a safe place to live.”

He looks into her eyes, and even though they are dark brown, they are just as warm as the blue-coated man’s, Newt’s. And he thinks, maybe, maybe, he can believe her.

“He said he’d help me.” He cannot help flinching away.

For a moment, the woman, Tina, is quiet. When she speaks there is a shake in her voice, and she hugs Credence again, her chin pressing on his shoulder.

“I trusted Mr. Graves too. He betrayed us all. I don’t know why. But Newt… You can trust Newt. He saved my life. You can trust him. All his creatures do.”

He is so oddly warm, and there are soft noises all around, but this place is blurred through the pain and the fear and the effort it takes to breathe.

“You can trust Newt, okay?”

“Okay,” he says.

*¡*¡*¡*¡*

Newt is tired.

This is not something he notices, until he staggers and has to lean against the wall.

Jacob frowns at him, and he manages a little smile back.

“I’ll fetch Tina to say goodbye,” he says, dropping his gaze to Jacob’s elbow.

“Oh, Newt!” Queenie breathes, and he avoids her gaze as he drops into the case.

This kind of dizziness is unusual, but as he climbs down the stairs, he does realize he has not truly slept since the last night on the steamer.

Tina and Credence are sitting on the steps by Frank’s perch. He chokes for a moment, swallows it.

“Sorry, if I gave you a fright there,” he says, nodding his head upwards.

Credence keeps his head on Tina’s shoulder, but Tina smiles thinly. “We’re okay.”

Newt looks at her for a long moment, unsure how much to share of the latest developments. “Go up and say good-bye to Jacob.” He gives her a little smile. “Queenie will explain everything.”

She gives him a long unreadable stare, before she goes.

Credence sits in the corner of the house, keeping his head down. He freezes when a curious Dougal comes in, and climbs into his lap.

“Oh, that’s Dougal, my demi-guise. He’s gentle, and will only nip if you provoke him. He’s letting you see him. Means he’s not afraid of you.”

Newt is moving about making tea, taking something for his own aches and bruises. The last showdown with Grave-Grindelwald (he shudders) was messy. He is well aware he missed death by a hair more than once. His coat, hanging on a nail, has a fair share of dust and dirt smears on it.

He measures a little of this and a little of that into two mugs, pours on some water, waves his wand over it all till steam curls up.

He hears Credence sniff slightly.

“Right,” he sighs, goes to press a mug into the boy’s hands. “Drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”

Pickett swings around Newt’s collar, and Newt shakes his head. “He really is gone, so, yes, things will be a lot quieter around here.” A surreptitious swipe of his hand across his nose, and Newt lets his legs give way, sinking down on the top step of his little house.

He turns to rest his back against the doorframe, and so he can watch Credence.

The boy—although he must be around fifteen or sixteen, so more of a young man really, but Newt can’t stop thinking of him as only a boy—sips the drink cautiously, but without comment. Newt can see him relaxing as the herbs and warm water work their way into his system.

Newt takes his own sip, and feels the raw ache in his throat that is ‘goodbye, Frank’ ease up. He lets his eyes close.

Queenie and Tina will take the case back to their flat. They will sleep there tonight. In the morning, Newt will take the first steamer back to England, hopefully with Credence beside him. Or at the very least, riding in the case.

He takes another sip of what his mother always called Hopeful Tea. It works just as well on several kinds of animals, especially hippogriffs.

When Credence does speak, his voice is small, childlike.

“What about the girl? The one you said you knew.”

Newt turns his head away, swallows hard. He doesn’t want to talk about that, not at the moment, but if not now, it will come up later.

“I met her in Sudan. Just a little girl. How-how old are you?”

“Sixteen, sir.”

“She was half your age.” Even the tea cannot remove the pain when he thinks about it. “They kept trying to kill her. But every time the Obscurus would… lash out. Protecting her. Even as it drained her.”

He cannot help his voice quivering, so he speaks slowly. “I could not save her. By the time I was able to separate the Obscurus from her own self… it was too late.”

Newt rubs one palm over his mouth, bites his lips together. This is a hard truth.

“I could fail you, Credence.” His eyes sting, and he winks the salt water away. “I might. Not be able to help you the way I hope to.

“But also… you’re sixteen. And you’re still alive. Somehow, with all you’ve been through, you’re still alive. That makes you one the strongest people I’ve ever met. Oh, I don’t mean your magical powers. I mean… in your heart. Inside. With everything that has been done to you, you have survived, and if anyone could continue to survive, it’s you Credence.”

Newt is looking right at the boy now. “So please. Please let me help you. Let me try.”

There is a long silence as they hold each other’s gaze, and then Credence breathes out. He says nothing, only looks down into his mug. But it is enough to let Newt breathe again too.

Some of the tension leaves the air.

Newt takes another drink, sniffs, rubs the back of his hand across his mouth.

Dougal’s snuffling makes him look over; the demi-guise is now offering the boy some small hard candies. Dougal is partial to sweet things, and Newt doesn’t want to know where the little creature got those. He senses more than sees Credence’s questioning look.

“I guess you really are part of the family now, if Dougal is offering you presents. Take one, or he’ll be upset.”

Newt does not miss the surprise on the boy’s face when the sweetness hits his tongue, and he turns his head away, afraid he might cry again. He bites his lips together.

Newt isn’t blind. He can see the scars Credence bears on his palms, read the fear and anger and tortured uncertainty in the dark eyes.

He stares out over his little sanctuary, his remaining creatures all safe now. And here comes his niffler at a trot, seeing the shine on his mug. He shakes his head, and tickles its back.

“You are… quite troublesome. Please behave from now on. Mum’s orders.”

Newt does not like thinking about what could happen if the Obscurus broke out here, in the case, with his creatures. He guesses that it happens only when Credence lets it, or is too emotionally overwrought to hold it back. He is not sure he knows strong enough containment spells, but perhaps he should try. Credence is not a beast, he is a person, but Newt thinks that he may change the snow room into a safe place for him.

Another thing he should probably bring up sooner rather than later.

“Credence–”

His voice breaks the silence and the young man jerks in surprise. The mug tumbles from his hand, hits the floorboards. The last dregs of tea splash out, the handle breaks off, and a crack runs down the side.

“Sorry,” Newt murmurs. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

A wave of his wand, and the spilt tea is vanished, the mug is whole again, but Credence still has not moved. Newt gets to his feet, picks up the mug, sets it beside the water bucket with his own. 

The boy’s eyes are on the floor, and Newt speaks quietly to the cupboards.

“It’s alright, Credence. It’s just a mug. You know, I was a bit of a clumsy kid. Broke things all the time. One of the first spells I learned, how to repair things.”

He feels like a clumsy kid right then, speaking without knowing if the words are right. No doubt Credence is expecting some form of punishment. Newt busies his hands, draining another dose of venom from the swooping evil.

“We will have to talk, of course. About how we’re going to keep you safe. Have to get you out of America. I managed to keep them off your scent, but they’ll be looking for you for a long time yet.” He pauses, fiddles with the corked vial. “I could take you to England with me. Hebrides maybe. Nice place out in the middle of the wild. I’ve been planning to study one specific dragon there for a while, but you would be safe enough there.”

Again he hesitates, and this time he turns his head. Credence is now standing, chin to his chest, hands at his sides.

“Credence,” Newt starts.

And Credence is undoing his belt.

Newt swallows, hard.

But when the young man holds out the belt, folded over his palm, still with his eyes on the floor, Newt thinks he understands.

He recalls Tina’s memory in the pool, that woman standing over Credence, something in her hand. _“She beats him. She beats all those kids she’s adopted, but she seems to hate him the most.”_

Had she really beaten this boy for things as small as breaking a mug? Or is this some sort of test, to see how Newt will react?

“Ah. Well.” Awkward, he takes the belt from the boy’s hand, senses the tension that runs through him. “We’ll have to get you some new clothes of course, something more relaxed.” He tries a little smile. “I’m sure Queenie will be happy to help you with that.”

Half-turning to the door, he taps the belt buckle with his wand, and it reforms into a sort of coin, with wavy lines across it. He tosses it out the door, and the niffler catches it before it hits the ground.

“Also, shiny things on your clothes aren’t going to stay there long if there’s a niffler around, so…” He taps the leather this time, transfiguring it to close in a way that uses no metal. “There. Shouldn’t have to worry about him pilfering anything now.”

There is a long minute, before Credence raises his eyes. They are so dark in his pale face.

“Credence.” He makes his voice firm. “I can promise you one thing. I will never try to harm you, or punish you, or hurt you. Please. Trust me on that.”

He takes a slow breath, offers the leather again, keeping his hand low, open. “Now, why don’t you put your belt back on, and help me feed a couple of the creatures, until Tina tells us we can come out.” A half-turn away. “I just realized, it’ll be breakfast, not dinner. I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

*¡*¡*¡*¡*

Credence… thinks that maybe, maybe he can believe him.

Newt.

His eyes are too clear to hide things in. And the way he stands, the moments he chooses to meet Credence’s gaze, and the moments he chooses to look somewhere else, the way he moves… It is just enough. Enough to make Credence feel something that might be called ‘safe’.

Credence stares at the leather strap hanging over Newt’s open palm, held out at waist height. The leather itself looks lighter, softer.

He hears the Englishman say something about breakfast, and he knows something. He is tired. He is hungry. And not just for food either. Inside him, something longs to accept, longs to trust.

This man is nothing like Mr. Graves, nothing like the people who called him names. He is different. He looks at Credence differently.

Credence wonders if it is the strong thing Newt said was inside him—his heart?—that makes him slowly reach for the belt. His hands are shaking as he slides it through the loops on his pants, then through itself to tighten it.

“Mister…”

“Oh, Scamander. But please, just ‘Newt’ is fine.” It sounds like a smile in the words. “Mr. Scamander is my father. Or my brother. I’ve always been just ‘Newt’.”

It feels wrong, too.. intimate to use the name, so he settles on ‘sir’.

“Sir. What if I hurt you?” His voice sounds as small and unexpected as he feels.

Credence can feel Newt’s eyes on him, but he does not dare look up.

“Well. Then we patch me up, and start again.”

The strange silvery creature that looks a bit like a monkey, wraps an arm around Credence’s knee. What had Newt called it? D-something. Its face is soft, gentle. It makes a chirping noise, and holds up a few more sweets on its hand.

Credence imagines the darkness breaking out of him, tearing that odd, soft creature in half, ripping through the warm wood of this little house, crashing into the freckled face that watched him with such concern.

Credence’s hands are shaking again, and the d-something creature backs off, its eyes widening.

“Credence,” Newt says softly.

Credence shuts his eyes.

Arms wrap around his shoulders, strong and gentle. Credence gasps once, twice. A hand rubs between his shoulder blades for a moment.

“I know you don’t want to hurt me.” The voice is low in his ear. “And I know you’ll try very hard not to. But I’m not afraid of you, Credence. I’m not afraid. It’s alright. It’s alright now.”

Newt holds him close, and Credence feels himself giving in, letting himself lean into the determined warmth of this odd man. He lets his head fall on Newt’s shoulder, breaths in the smell of dust and sweat and something strange. A few tears darken Newt’s shirt, before Credence can stop them.

Credence does not know how to respond. He wants to say something, but no words are coming. His body feels heavy and weak at the same time, and he sways, before he catches himself by grabbing onto the back of the man’s shirt.

“Yes,” he blurts out.

Newt doesn’t say anything more, but he doesn’t let go either.

At least not until Credence is ready.

*¡*¡*¡*¡*

Newt says his goodbyes to Tina, promises to bring her a copy of his book. In person. He will never forget the way she smiles when she says, “Very much!”

And home he goes to England, carrying his suitcase.

Credence goes with him. New clothes, and a good hat, and the odd little smile which Newt has seen exactly thrice make him look very different.

Newt promptly gets slapped with a travel ban by the Ministry on his return, but thankfully that doesn’t include the Scottish Hebrides. He gets a snug little cabin in the hills, not too far from the dragon’s nest, and as winter sets in, it is a warm and cozy way to live.

Credence learns the animals, but shows a particular affinity for understanding what Newt does with the plants. Newt does his best to encourage him, sending owls for books and other things to help the boy learn.

Newt learns too.

It takes weeks, almost a full two months, before he thinks maybe he can try. But Newt does it. He knows that it is Credence’s strength that gets both of them through the ordeal.

He finds himself blinking back tears, as he stares at the swirling black mass contained in its new home, and then at Credence lying white and limp on the floor. For a moment his heart stutters with fear, as he gently lifts the young man’s head, but then Credence blinks at him, and when he sits up, there is no blood on his teeth.

Credence cries for both of them. Hard, wrenching sobs, soaking the collar of Newt’s shirt. But that’s alright. People are allowed to cry. Credence weeps until he falls asleep.

That night Newt sits by the boy’s bed, and writes another letter to Tina.

The snow is still thick, but the sun is out longer, when Newt knows spring is coming and the world will soon be knocking on his door again.

He knows Grindelwald is to be put on trial, he knows Tina never found the other Obscurio. He knows there are a lot of things to be done in the days ahead.

But they stay in the cabin for a little while longer. 

It is evening, Credence is reading by the fire, or he would be reading if he were not staring into the flames.

Newt is talking about finding a wand maker, perhaps a trip to Diagon Alley even, because Credence is going to need a wand to master his magic properly. Newt is also making hot cocoa, and he carries the mugs out into the sitting room. He nudges Credence’s hand gently with the side of a mug, and the boy accepts it.

Newt sits on the floor, picks up the last proof copy his editor has sent him.

“Did you see this cover art, Credence?” He holds it up, then looks over when he receives no immediate response. “Credence?”

“I don’t want to be Credence.”

“Ah.”

“I-I mean…” He is nervous now, his eyes darting to Newt and back to the fire, gripping his mug of cocoa. “I want to change my name. If I can.”

Newt nods. “Yes, that might be helpful. Credence Barebone will still be on the Wanted lists.” The young man shudders at the sound of his full name. “What did you have in mind?”

“She gave me that name. But I was only a baby when she took me. So I don’t remember what my name was before.”

Credence has filled out in these months, he looks stronger, and his cheeks hold colour. His hair has grown longer and wavy. He is wearing muggle clothes—a knitted jumper and blue trousers. His face is clouded when he looks into his mug.

“You don’t remember anything about your parents?” asks Newt quietly.

“My– My mother must have been a witch. But I don’t remember her.” The boy hunches his shoulders, looking small again.

“Well, we can try to find them. Where you came from. What your family was like. I’ll help you as much as I can, Credence. I mean…” Newt glances into the flames himself. “Do you have a name you were thinking of?”

“Kai,” the boy whispers. “Or Kit. But no. Kai. K-A-I.” His swallow is audible.

Newt nods. “I like it. Kai.” A flicker of a smile on the young man’s face. “You’re going to need a surname too, though,” he adds.

“Yours?”

Credence, or Kai, flinches so hard he shatters his mug. _“Reparo,”_ Newt mutters. _“Scourgify…”_ His voice trails off, and he sits quite still on the rug.

Newt isn’t sure how long it is before he comes out of it was a little laugh. “Are you sure?”

“If you don’t want me to have it–”

“It could confuse some people. Scamander is an older family name, and not very common. People would ask where you came from.” Newt falls silent, feeling like he’d said the wrong thing somehow. It had taken a lot of courage for Credence, no Kai, to say that. _Kai Scamander._

“Why Scamander?” he asks finally.

The young face is particularly vulnerable in the firelight. “I want to be in your family.”

Newt huffs, raises his eyebrows. “First time I’ve heard that one.”

“You saved me,” says Crede– Kai. “And I don’t–” He sniffs. “You saved me. So I want to be part of your family.”

“Oh.”

Newt knows exactly how flat that sounds, but he has no clue what else to say.

“Well. Alright then.”

He can hear Cre– Kai relax.

They check on the creatures before bed, and Newt is very careful to call, “Kai,” several times. The erumpet is under the weather, and when Kai mixes anecdotal herbs and Newt praises him, Kai smiles.

Newt knows the young man is still prone to nightmares, and sometimes will make things break if he gets over emotional. His need for physical comfort is not always easy for Newt to fill, and some parts of him will always bear scars. But the boy is healing, like all of Newt’s creatures do eventually. And that makes Newt glad.

 _Kai Scamander_ he thinks again, and now it sends warmth through him. It has a good ring. Why, he could almost name his son that. If he had a son. But what would Tina think of naming their son Kai?

He catches himself, rubs the back of his neck where it is hot, tells Pickett, “Yes, I have some in my pocket. Now go eat up.”

*¡*¡*¡*¡*

Kai is falling asleep in his chair, but Newt’s hand on his shoulder shakes him gently.

“Go on to bed.”

“O-kaaay,” he yawns.

Kai stumbles a little over the rug in the hall, and goes about getting ready for bed.

_I am Kai. Kai Scamander._

He imagines people calling, _“Kai!”_ like Newt had. _“My name is Kai,”_ is how he would introduce himself. _“Kai Scamander.”_

In his pyjamas he pads back down the hall into the living room. Newt has his book open in his lap, but he is not reading it. Pickett is sitting on one shoulder, and Dougal is curled up beside him, eating apples.

Kai clears his throat. Nervous.

“Newt?”

Newt starts, looks over, eyebrows up in that way he has.

“Goodnight.”

Newt smiles. “Goodnight, Kai Scamander.”

Kai stands for a moment longer, and then Newt gives a little sigh, but he is still smiling crookedly, as he gets up and comes over to give Kai a hug.

Tears are strange, because he should be ashamed to cry, but Newt never says it’s wrong, and they make him feel better.

“There, there,” Newt mutters, and Kai thinks that maybe, someday, he might want to call Newt something else—because if he could be anyone’s son, he would wish to be Newt Scamander’s.

Someday soon, he will hold his first wand, and feel a sense of wholeness like he never knew before. Someday soon he will hear the news that Gellart Grindelwald has escaped custody, and is searching for the boy from New York with the Obscurus. Someday, soon enough, he will stand with Newt and Tina and Albus Dumbledore and many others against the man who had once tried to use him. And they will win.

But he knows all he needs to right now, as he falls asleep in his room, with moonlight coming through the window and making patterns on the floor.

He is warm, he is safe, he is loved.

He is Kai Scamander, and he is not afraid.

**Author's Note:**

> AND....  
> Kai was there at Newt and Tina's wedding, best man if Theseus wasn't available because it would have been a war wedding, and he fought Grindelwald himself, defending his adopted family, and was seriously wounded more than once, but made it out of the war alive. Afterwards he returned to the States, married a no-maj single mother whose husband had divorced her after he found out their child was magical. Together they ran an orphanage for street kids, taking special care to notice magical ones and make sure they got into Ilvermorny, and Kai never once raised a hand against any of his kids, biological, adopted, or otherwise. He was named godfather to Newt's kids, and every summer he would take one of his New York kids to travel with Newt for a few weeks. Kai became an amateur botanist, and made a great study of Obscurial, but only as a consultant; he never wanted any kind of job with a high profile. He never did find out who his real parents were, but one day after the war had ended, he accidentally called Newt 'Dad'. And he realized he had all the family he needed.  
> THE END
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. Kudos and comments are always awesome. Here's to an awesome 2021!!!!


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